Taking Her Temperature
by Jayneysuk
Summary: Mrs Hughes finds herself under the weather. Carson has to work beyond the constraint of rules and his fear of impropriety to take care of her. Friendship with a hint of more possibly.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Taking Her Temperature**  
**Pairing: Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson**  
**Rating: k + for now**  
**Spoilers: This is set at some point in the Christmas Episode so anything up to and including that is fair game.**  
**Disclaimers: The characters belong to Julian Fellowes. I may toy with them but I always put them back relatively unscathed.**  
**Authors Notes: This is my first foray into Downton fic. Having re-watched some of the episodes recently my muse wouldn't leave it alone. I was part way through an angsty Bates and Anna when Elsie took over. Please review if you like and have the time.

**Part One**

There was nothing unusual about the day, in fact since she had risen at six that morning the day had followed its familiar pattern. She had supervised the maids as they had cleaned the first floor, joining them for breakfast in the servants hall before the household awoke, then carried out inventory of the store cupboard. For all appearances she was the same slightly domineering Mrs Hughes, maybe a little bit more impatient than general, but they would never know she was feeling tired. It was only as she made her way back to her sitting room that Elsie had felt the first wave of nausea and the room begin to spin. She faltered but caught herself. As her shoes clattered along the flagstones, her fingers trailed along the wall, ever fearful that she would suddenly find herself out cold on the floor. Rounding the corner she was relieved to reach the open door of her sitting room. The settee loomed large ahead of her. Just a minute or two, she thought, I'll just take a minute or two to rest and I'll be fine. As her body sagged onto the settee she knew it was going to take a lot longer than a minute for her to feel well again.

"Mrs Hughes."

She would, she thought, remember that deep penetrating voice for the rest of her life. Timidly she raised her head to look at him. "Mr Carson."

He stepped into the small room which was solely her domain, and his presence filled the doorway. "You're laying down," he stated, his features contorted in consternation. "Is anything the matter?" Consternation turned to concern when she failed to answer immediately, her responses generally so instant and certain.

There was a second when Elsie thought about lying, making up an excuse for her impropriety, but her head was too blurry to think and she really wasn't sure how she had gotten from sitting to lying without realising. "I really don't feel at all well," she said brusquely.

Charles stepped further into the room, worry lacing his features as he recognised the tell tell signs. "We need to get you to bed."

My how she liked that sentiment. The idea of lying down in a cocoon of sheets and blankets was possibly the most appealing offer she had had in a long while. Slowly, she tried to get herself into a sitting position, her hand flying to her mouth as she felt another wave of nausea and the floor turned 180 degrees. "I'm not sure I can make it, Mr Carson."

It was practically unheard of for the housekeeper to be sick, in fact he could probably count the number of times it had happened in fifteen years of working with her on one hand. He stepped purposefully out of the room and looked up and down the corridor. Spying a hall boy he called out to him, "Fetch Anna."

The hall boy scurried as they all did whenever the butler barked an order. It was never a good thing to question the man or hesitate for fear they might awaken his bite.

"Anna and I are going to help you upstairs," he whispered softly, leaning down until he was at her eye level. She looked, Charles decided, even paler than normal and fragile. She wouldn't like the idea of him seeing her as anything but strong, but it clear for him to see that the fight had gone out of her. He mentally berated himself for not paying more attention at breakfast. Although she was petite he didn't relish the prospect of getting her up three flights of stairs, but he also didn't trust anyone else to get her there either. Charles took a fortifying breath. "Lean on me," he said gently, helping her slowly to her feet, pausing intermittently as she regained her balance.

Anna rushed down the stairs, tasks discarded at her summoning, and headed for the sitting room. She was surprised to find the butler practically carrying the housekeeper across the room.

"Ah Anna, good. Mrs Hughes has been taken poorly. Could you help me get her to bed?"

"Of course." Gently Anna eased the housekeeper's arm over her shoulder and between them they guided her out of the door and towards the stairs.

For the poor staff member who stopped in the corridor to stare there would be a fixed glare from Mr Carson to urge them on their way. Few stopped what they were doing, fewer still had the time to notice.

At the top of each flight of steps they paused, allowing each to take a breath and Mrs Hughes to settle her stomach. Her endless protests fell on deaf ears, her attempts to walk unaided a complete failure.

Finally they reached the servants corridor and the small room that had been the Elsie's since she had moved to Downton fifteen years before. It wasn't much but she had made it cosy adding her own handmade touches here and there and spreading what personal possessions she had across her dresser. As they stumbled through the door all she longed for was the tiny cast iron bed and the lumpy mattress.

"I'm going to leave you in Anna's hands," Charles said with a hint of fondness in his voice, before lowering her on to the bed with a groan. He turned to the young housemaid and asked, "Will you be alright or should I send Miss O'Brien up?"

Anna smiled and turned to attention to the housekeeper. "I think she would prefer this." As head housemaid it was her responsibility to protect the housekeeper as much as it was to protect the family, and she did not believe the woman would want half the staff knowing her personal business. While O'Brien may have had many virtues, and as yet Anna had seen very few, she did not think discretion was one of them. "We'll manage."

Elsie wanted to lie down but she knew she needed to get out of her confines. Falling asleep in her corset would only leave her with a bad back and a creased dress would only create more laundry. For a few seconds she sat there, debating how best to do it, then she remembered him standing in the doorway. "You came to see me, Mr Carson. Was there something you needed?" she asked wearily.

He shook his head firmly. Whatever had been so pressing for him to go in search of her in the middle of the morning escaped him, not that he would have ladened her with it. "Nothing that can't wait. Get some rest." He turned briefly to Anna. "When you've finished here, come find me."

"Yes, Mr Carson." She knew what was coming and although she was neither ready for the post nor did she covet it she knew she would do it to the best of her ability. Anna turned and caught sight of Mrs Hughes struggling to her feet. "Here, let me help," she said softly, taking the other woman's arm. "At least let me help you out of the dress."

With a grumble, Elsie sat back on the bed, allowing the young housemaid to unhook her dress.

Anna moved to the chair, carefully unfolding the nightgown that was sitting there, placing it on the bed. As she eased the dress up over the woman's body, she saw her eyes suddenly glaze and moved to catch her. "Mrs Hughes," she said, concern lacing her voice. Placing one hand on her back she gently lowered her onto the bed. Kneeling on the bed was the only way she could finish the task. "You just lay there and we'll make you comfortable."

Ten minutes and much consternation later Elsie was under the covers, curled up into a ball, mumbling quietly.

Anna placed her discarded clothes on the chair and pulled the curtains. "I'm going to get you some water and then I will be back." By the time she returned her charge was fast asleep so she adjusted the blankets and placed the jug of water on the night stand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

The staff were already gathered in the servants hall when Anna descended the stairs to the basement, keys jangling from the hook on her waist. She paused on the bottom stair, taking a moment to look at herself in the mirror. It surprised her to find she looked no different, not older although she certainly felt it, and she briefly wondered how she was going to pull it off. Taking a deep breath she took the last few steps to the open doorway.

Mr Carson stole a glance in her direction and she nodded, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

"As some of you are already aware Mrs Hughes has been taken ill. In her absence Anna will be acting housekeeper and as such should be shown the same respect you would Mrs Hughes." He paused to glance at each maid and footman in turn, his eyes lingering a moment longer on Thomas, awaiting a protest or comment. When none was forthcoming he continued, "There will of course be some changes in order that we maintain our standards. Miss O'Brien, if you will attend to Lady Mary and Lady Edith this evening."

"What about her Ladyship?" she grumbled before he had even finished speaking.

"I am sure you are more than capable of attending to all three," he commented, his tone dripping in false flattery. His eyebrows rose as he silently challenged her to argue further. "Hopefully it will only be for tonight, maybe tomorrow but we will know more when Mrs Hughes wakes up."

**"**What if it's contagious?" Daisy asked.

**"**Can we deal with that, if and when it happens," he replied, casting his eyes around the room, daring anyone else to ask questions.

A bell rang on the board behind him and Mr Carson turned to see who would need to respond. "I will see what his Lordship needs. The rest of you back to work." Without another word he crossed the room to Anna. "You know what to do," he stated rather than asked.

"Yes, Mr Carson. The beds need changing and Mrs Hughes likes to clean the stairs on a Tuesday. It's too nasty outside to beat the rugs so I'll get the maids to give the dining room a good going over after the family have taken lunch," she thought out loud. "Then I'll take some lunch up to Mrs Hughes."

"Very good."

He gave her a small rare smile. Mrs Hughes, he knew, had been worrying about the girl since the sentence had been pronounced. Which of course meant he had been worrying too but she seemed to be fairing well, probably better than he would have in the circumstances. There was a lot to be said for keeping busy, he mused. "If you need any assistance, although I'm sure you won't I will be in my parlour.

"Taking it as her dismissal, Anna turned on her heel and headed back upstairs in search of the maids.

~~~~~~

Anna had just settled herself at the servants table with a cup of tea when she heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Mrs Hughes sitting room was unlocked but she didn't feel it was appropriate for her to be taking tea there. She was about to regret that decision she was sure. She knew from the familiar footsteps exactly what was coming her way. With a sigh, she placed her cup on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

"Ah, Anna," Mrs Patmore said, crossing her arms across her chest and blocking the doorway. "Just the person I was looking for."

Inwardly Anna groaned but she fixed a smile on her face. As much as she liked and respected Mrs Patmore the urge to run in the opposite direction was almost overwhelming. If it hadn't been for the small inconvenience of luncheon to cook, she was convinced it wouldn't have taken the cook quite so long to pin her down. But if she thought Anna was a pushover she was in for a surprise. Her loyalty lie with the housekeeper, who had taken her under her wing almost a decade a go and who was the closest thing she had to a mother.

"Yes, Mrs Patmore?"

"So you're acting housekeeper." There was a brief pause. "Have you got the key to the store cupboard?"

As much as the world had changed some things would eternally stay the same. The ongoing battle between the cook and the housekeeper had began almost as soon as Mrs Hughes had been promoted to housekeeper or so the stories went. It was hard to imagine one little key could cause so many arguments. Anna's fingers toyed with the collection of keys beneath the table. There was no possibility that Anna would hand over the key,not least because Mrs Hughes would have a fit and it would probably inhibit her recovery. There was also the fact that Anna would be aiding the other side in battle. She nibbled her bottom lip. "Actually, no I haven't. She gave it to Mr Carson for safe keeping," she lied.

The cook made a noise which sounded very much like a snort and turned on her heel, her footsteps echoing on the tiles as she made her way to the butlers private domain.

With a sigh, Anna rose to her feet and followed. She heard the surprise in Mr Carson's voice as he greeted Mrs Patmore followed by the distinctive sound of his patience waning.

"Mr Carson, in Mrs Hughes absence would it not be better if I had the key. I mean you don't want me coming to you every time I need to make gravy or a souffle, now do you? I am surely better placed than Anna to order what I need for this household."

Anna stood in the doorway pulling a face, hoping he wouldn't let her down or drop her in it. He was at a unfair advantage, cornered and alone, with no idea why the cook was blathering on at him about the key. It was probably the last thing he wanted to be dealing with. Of course he had also been witness to a few of the arguments but as to why the feud continued he probably had no clue. Anna wasn't about to enlighten him.

He glanced at Anna, his brow furrowing as she continued to make a face. Realisation suddenly dawned and he seemed to stand up even straighter. "I'm sorry Mrs Patmore, I cannot do that. I will be holding on to the key and placing any orders that you require. If you would kindly write a list I will ensure you get everything you need."

The cook opened her mouth ready to argue but the fight seemed to disappear as he stared down at her. "Huh, what do you think I'm going to do? Fill a basket and sell it at Ripon market? Well don't come complaining when all you have is stew again."

"Mrs Patmore, please," he tried to reason.

She turned on her heel and stomped off, brushing passed Anna as she did so.

He rubbed his temple, wishing that a certain scottish housekeeper wasn't in bed, not for the first time that day. "Anna?" he asked, glancing up at her, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Sorry. I should have warned you but she didn't give me the chance. I didn't want to break the rules or make the situation any worse. I knew you'd be better placed," she trailed off. "Mrs Hughes really wouldn't like it if the key fell into the wrong hands." She lifted the huge set of keys dangling from her waist and handed him over the key to the store cupboard. She jingled the keys a second longer and finally handed over the key to the connecting door. "You should have this too."

"What is it?" he asked, confused.

"Mrs Hughes' spare key to the attic door," she offered with a shrug and a shy smile.

His brow furrowed as he stared down at the keys. "Why would I . . .?" Twenty years ago he might have had a use for it, thirty years and he probably wouldn't have bothered with the key, instead using one of the outbuildings. His days of breaking rules and chasing the maids all but disappeared when he became the Butler.

"In case you need to cross the corridor. To prevent trysts in the night. . . " She trailed off, no longer comfortable with the conversation, her hands waving nervously through the air. It was, she assumed, the type of awkward conversation you might have with your father when courting. It was preferable to stop while the going was good. "I would just rather not play gatekeeper."

He nodded in understanding, wondering how many late trysts Mrs Hughes had prevented over the years and hoping there wouldn't be any on his watch. "How is she?" he asked as casually as he could. In reality he had found himself missing her as the day wore on, her daily presence one of familiarity and companionship.

"I took her some lunch but she couldn't eat it. She was going back to sleep when I left," Anna offered, pondering whether to speak out of turn. As his attention drifted, however momentarily, she decided that sometimes risks were worth it. "Maybe you could go up after supper. I'll get the youngsters off to bed and make sure everything is cleared ready for the morning."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," he replied, as he debated whether to take her tea.

"You didn't ask. I offered."

"Thank you, Anna."

She rolled her eyes, wondering if he would ever allow someone to do something for him. She turned and made her way back down the corridor to what would be a now cold cup of tea.

~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the kind comments. I'm trying to keep the chapters short and light but there will be angst to follow.

**Part Three**

It was already eleven when Carson finished his work for the day. Even on a relatively uneventful day there still seemed to be so much to do, and the Dowager Countess had invited herself to dinner, adding to everyone's workload. Her presence had meant that his Lordship had needed to change his outfit at the last minute, Mrs Patmore had been forced to vary her choice of vegetable and the after dinner coffee had dragged interminably. Finally, to the collective relief of the staff, the family had retired for the night and he had been able to retire to his parlour.

The decanter of claret had gone untasted in the absence of his usual companion and he had found himself, lights turned on low, pouring over the pantry and wine ledgers. There was, he had to admit, method in his madness. A little extra paperwork tonight meant a little less tomorrow. As he closed the ledger with a thud and rose to his feet he heard Anna's voice drifting down the corridor. He chuckled lightly as her usual gentle tone rose in volume becoming more impatient with each passing second, and he heard the sound of scurrying feet across the tiles. She was no Mrs Hughes he acknowledged but the formidable Scot had taught her well. Arching his back he tried to stretch the fatigue from his body, rotating his neck to ease the stiffness. The voice moved closer and he glanced up at the door, anticipating her visit.

"Goodnight, Mr Carson," she said, appearing in the doorway, offering him a small smile. "I have sent everyone to bed, including Mrs Patmore, and turned off the lights and made sure Thomas locked the back door." There was something else she was sure she needed to tell him but it was all but forgotten after her first day in charge.

"I will check it myself shortly," he said, offering a nod of his head in approval.

She nodded, not in the least bit offended. "I'm going up now, if there's nothing else."

"Goodnight Anna."

"Goodnight Mr Carson." She turned slightly, intent on going on her way, then paused, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. "Would you like me to check on Mrs Hughes?"

He watched her, anticipating her question but finding he didn't have an answer. All day it had been playing on his mind. Elsie was the closest thing he had to a friend, had been for as long as he could remember but their positions prevented him from showing more than a casual concern for her welfare. They frequently shared secrets and discussed affairs beyond the walls of Downton, their rare arguments doing little damage to their relationship after so long. Yet they had never shared a meal together just the two of them, taken a walk in companionable silence or acknowledged what they truly were to each other. As he had waited in the drawing room after dinner for his Lordship he had wondered whether it was time to be a little more of a friend and less of the Butler, but then he had considered where they were, how fortunate they were, and sense had prevailed. So it surprised him when he heard himself say, "No, I'll do it myself."

"Yes, Mr Carson."He could have sworn she grinned. It would have irked him, had it not been for the fact it was such a rarity in current times and he rather liked the idea that he could make her smile.

Turning off the light, he took the same walk he did every evening, checking and double checking the back door and wandering through the rooms until he was certain that everything was ready for the morning. Slowly he ascended the stairs, his apprehension growing with each step. He was a man of propriety, a man who felt safe within boundaries and yet he was about to step beyond those boundaries. In the eighteen years they had worked together, they had shared many a cup of tea or glass of wine after dinner, always in his parlour or her sitting room. For the first time in their relationship he was about to step over the threshold into her room, not just step but hopefully stay a while. In any other circumstances it would never have occurred to him but she was sick and if he was to sleep at all he needed to know for himself that she was alright.

The women's corridor was empty and silent as he lightly knocked on the door, waiting for her to call out before he opened the door and stepped inside the room.

"Mr Carson?" she stammered, pulling the sheet up to her neck. A deep crimson hue covered her cheeks, in sharp contrast, he noted, to the paleness of the rest of her skin. "What are doing here?"

He found himself staring unabashed at her. He couldn't help himself. Even in the dimness of her room there was something ethereal about her. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed how beautiful she was before, despite the matronly outfits that drained her skin of colour, it was just that the circumstances had added a new intimacy.

Mrs Hughes blushed deeper, her fingers unconsciously toying with her hair as it hung loosely at her shoulders, tousled from where she had lain on it. His scrutiny was unnerving, yet not unpleasant, she had to admit.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, dragging his eyes from her face. "I came to see how you were."

"Won't you sit down," she suggested, indicating the threadbare chair beside her bed. In truth the constant looking up at him was hurting her neck, not to mention she felt at an unfair disadvantage.

Turning to ensure the door was still open, the last modicum of propriety in the situation, he settled himself in the chair. Leaning forward, hands clasped in his lap he asked softly, "So how do you feel?"

Elsie smiled weakly, feeling anything but the strong, capable housekeeper he had come to depend on over the years. "I must admit that I have felt better." She brought her fingers to her forehead, gently massaging the headache that was forming. "I'm sure it's just a cold or something that's going around."

He nodded, a grim smile on his face. The blush having dissipated, her face now carried the shade of her nightgown peeking out above her blanket. "Is there anything you need?"

She shook her head firmly, ignoring the pain searing through her skull. It wouldn't do for the Butler to be waiting on the Housekeeper. "Anna left me with a jug of water and some aspirin." He looked, she had to admit, slightly disappointed. "Isn't there something you should be doing?"

"You want me to leave?" he asked in a tone that belittled his amusement that she would so readily dismiss him after he had taken such a big step.

"No, of course not," she offered awkwardly. "I just meant I shouldn't be keeping you from your duties."

He laughed, his chest rising and falling beneath the constraints of his dinner suit. "It's almost midnight, Mrs Hughes, the only thing you are keeping me from is my bed."

Such a simple phrase but one that now occupied her mind. She tried to imagine them as companions, she really did and most of the time it worked. One day they would retire together and live in a two bedroom cottage on the estate, spending their day pottering in the Garden and reading. They would be friends. Sometimes she would allow herself to daydream, to believe that they would become more. The notion that he would wake up one day and realise that he was in love with her, or even lusted after her, was a silly school girl wish and one that she shouldn't allow herself to have, but she did. The familiar image of him, tucked up in bed, sheet wrapped around his waist, chest speckled with salt and pepper tuffs, heaving with laboured breathing brought forth yet another blush.

"Mrs Hughes?"

She waved him off. "I really don't feel that well," she half lied.

"Here have some water." He poured a generous amount into her glass. He really didn't like the way her skin flushed a deep crimson hue then dissipated to a grey colour. "When did you last take some aspirin?"

"Before dinner I think."

Charles held out two small pills and her hand reached for them, her fingers grazing his palm, causing them both to grab their hands away instantly.

"Thank you," she said throatily, swallowing the pills and taking a sip of water. She spluttered as it went down the wrong way. "Sorry. Maybe we should both be getting some sleep."

He nodded, mentally chastising himself for disturbing her so late at night. She was clearly unwell and as concerned as he was for her health he wasn't helping. "If you are sure there's nothing I can get you, I'll bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr Carson," she said quietly, exhaustion beginning to consume her body as she settled herself back on the pillow.

He rose to his feet, crossing the carpet to the door, turning briefly. "Would you permit me to call on you again tomorrow after lunch?" Charles asked, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect.

She managed a small smile. "I would like that."

Charles nodded, pulling the door closed behind him. Glancing up and down the corridor he was relieved to see that none of the maids were lurking outside. Letting out a deep breath he fumbled in his pocket finally pulling out one of the keys Anna had given him. The door clicked open, and he stepped back into familiar territory, once more the Butler.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Fou****r**

**1**

Elsie rolled over with an audible groan, tugging her cocoon of sheets with her. Anna had brought her toast and tea at breakfast time but she had found herself unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls. Her throat was sore, and if that had been all she might have been able to get up for a while. As it was she tried, much to Anna's amusement, landing back on the mattress with a thud. That was where she had pretty much stayed since. Briefly she had tried to read but her head hurt and the words swam before her eyes so she had relegated the book with as much force as she could muster to the floor. Sleep had seemed a logical next step but the clock on her night stand counted down the hours as she tried unsuccessfully to close her eyes for more than a few minutes at a time. So she was tired, and a little bored and frustrated if the truth be told, and lonely.

Mr Carson had promised to call on her after lunch but lunch had finished nearly two hours before and there was still no sign of him. She had found herself patiently watching the door, hoping he would appear. Now she was slightly annoyed although she had no right to be. He had a busy household to run, not made any easier by her not being there. Elsie rolled over again, her back now to the door, the covers tossed aside as she felt a surge of heat through her body. Seconds later she shivered and pulled them back over her. The hand on the clock moved another minute.

**2**

The day was getting beyond his control and his frustration was growing. He hadn't really had chance to catch his breath since breakfast and now he was sat in his pantry discussing china and menus with Anna. At that point he couldn't particularly care less about the merits of rose patterned dinner plates and the intricacies of egg custard. He had been looking forward to a quiet cup of tea with his best friend all day and the longer he spent with Anna the more likely it was that he would be heading straight up to serve dinner. He ran a hand over his forehead and glanced up.

Anna was staring at him, her head tilted to one side and he knew then that his mind had been wandering for some time.

"I'm sorry, Anna, what was that?" he asked, trying to feign interest.

"They are predicting more snow in the next few days. I thought if it holds through tomorrow we might beat the rugs. Who knows when we might get another chance," she finished, wondering if the rugs were up to the level of frustration she needed to vent.

Charles glanced at the ledger on his desk and back at the face of the young maid. "That sounds fine. Could you get someone to give the red room a thorough going over too?"

"Of course, Mr Carson."

There were things that he excelled at, things it seemed he was born to do, but there were other things that bewildered him, that he felt completely inept at. Which is why his housekeeper complimented him so well. As he stared at the young girl who must, he assumed, be going through a hell no one should have to suffer, he wished for Elsie's grace. "Why don't you get yourself some tea before you fall down."

"I'm fine," she said in a rush, hoping he hadn't caught the yawn she had tried to stifle.

The last thing she was was fine he knew but it was a testimony to her professionalism that she said it. "Well I'm going to get some and maybe take some up to Mrs Hughes." He rose to his feet, signalling that they were finished for the time being.

"Would you like me to have someone clean your room, Mr Carson?" she asked as they made their way towards the door. "I can do it myself if you would prefer."

He came to a halt and turned to face her, a little exasperated at her enthusiasm. As much as he aspired to be the best at his job, he had over time, with a little cajoling, learned when to take a break. The same could not be said for the Head Housemaid. " Anna, go have some tea, take a break." Lightly he squeezed her arm, surprising himself as much as her. "You are doing a fine job. Mrs Hughes has trained you well." He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about my room, it can wait a few days. You have far too much to do."

Anna nodded, her brow furrowing as she contemplated how long it would take to change his bed and sweep his floor. She decided she had time before dinner. As she stepped into the corridor she hesitated, debating whether it was the right moment to ask what had been bothering her all day.

"Was there something else?" he asked, his tone lacking in patience.

"No, well, yes. Tomorrow was going to be my half day. I was going to see Mr Bates. But under the circumstances I can go another time . . . ," she trailed off, taken aback when he gave her a warm smile.

"If no one else is off and the work is done it might be a possibility. I need to check that the family won't be having guests. Let me consider it and get back to you," he said softly. He wasn't sure why he had said that. It was impractical for her to be out of the house when the housekeeper was laid up. Charles stepped out into the hallway to call after all and tell her no, but a nagging voice in his head, one that strangely chided him in a Scottish brogue, told him to let her go. He rubbed his eyes wearily with his hand and wondered when she had found her way into his head.

**3**

Charles climbed the stairs slowly, balancing the tray on one arm as he held onto the bannister with the other. At the top of each flight he briefly rested, taking a breath and moving the tray to the other arm but by the time he reached the attic he was out of breath. Composing himself, he made his way along the female corridor towards her room. Her door was closed and he knocked lightly, before stepping over the threshold.

Her back was to the door and for a minute he thought she might be asleep, his heart sinking a little at the prospect. Then he heard her voice.

"Mr Carson," she rasped.

"Sorry. I meant to come earlier but . . ." he trailed off, not really wanting to offer her excuses.

"You must be busy," she acknowledged as he rearranged the side table and placed the tray down. Gently she rolled over onto her back, wincing as pain seared through her body.

"Not too busy to pay you a call," Charles admonished, distracted by making tea and failing to notice her distress. "Although things do seem to conspire against me. Tea?"

She nodded, swallowing hard. "I don't want to keep you from something more pressing," she offered hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper.**  
****  
**"You aren't." He lifted the teapot and filled her cup, adding a little milk before handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"Are you getting enough fluids?" he asked, leaning in to get a better look at her. She looked paler than the previous night, if that was possible, and he could barely hear her. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," she lied. In truth she felt like death warmed up but she wasn't about to tell him that. "I just want to sleep all the time."

"Rest is the body's way of healing." He began to rise, concern for her health overriding his desire to spend time with her. "Maybe I should go."

His eyes darted to her hand as she reached out and covered his. Her skin was almost translucent, her hand so small against his, her fingers lightly massaging his knuckles. "Stay," she pleaded and he had to lean closer to hear her. Charles nodded, his eyes still focused on their hands.

"I'm so bored," she grumbled. "Lying in bed while everyone else is running ragged." Elsie knew that she should move her hand before it became uncomfortable, or worse still that someone saw them, but she didn't want to. "How is everything downstairs?"

"Anna has everything under control." He realised he'd said the wrong thing when she furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. "She is making sure the work is done. Keeping her eye on the girls. Checking in on me." He noted with amusement that she smiled. At first he hadn't realised what Elsie was up to, considering her visits to be purely casual, but as they got more frequent, her appearances more timed, he realised that she was keeping an eye on him. Since his collapse there had hardly been a night she hadn't appeared in his pantry. "I have the store ledger, and everything else can wait until you're back on your feet."

"You haven't given Mrs Patmore the store key," Elsie asked, her body tensing.

"No, Anna made sure I have it."

She relaxed against the pillow. "Is she alright?"

"Mrs Hughes," he groaned, wondering when it was that they had become de-facto parents for the younger members of staff. "She's been trained for this."

"That's not what I meant."

He knew exactly what she meant but he wasn't the girls father and he didn't have her sentimentality. "She's fine. Lady Mary and Mrs Crawley are keeping an eye out for her."

"She's been so sweet, despite everything." Damn it, she was going to cry and she could only imagine his reaction to her blubbering all over him.

"They don't blame you, I'm sure." Charles looked away. If she started to cry he would want to comfort her and that would only embarrass them both, better that he feigned ignorance. "Drink your tea." He took a sip of his own brew. "She asked me just now if she could take her half day tomorrow. I said I would think about it."

"You should let her go."**  
****  
**"We are already two down," he protested weakly.

She patted his hand. "Put yourself in her shoes. I know if it was me and I had only days left with the man I loved, I would want to spend every second I could with him. If Mr Murray fails she might not have many more afternoons. . . "

"I shouldn't be bothering you with this," he acknowledged as she winced in pain.

"Charles," she rasped. His eyes met hers and she knew this was one argument she would win.

"Yes." He didn't elaborate, he didn't need to. All the while Elsie was sick in bed and getting worse by the minute he was faced with the prospect of a life without her. Her absence downstairs had given him cause for thought, jolted him into facing up to the truth that time was running out for them. The fact Anna was so young and could love again didn't change that.

She took a small sip of cold tea and started coughing.

Gently he took the cup from her hands and placed it on the night stand. "I don't like the sound of that cough."

"I'm fine," she said firmly once the coughing fit had subsided.

"I'll ask his Lordship to get Dr Clarkson to come over."

"You will not!" she exclaimed with as much strength as she could muster.

"Mrs Hughes."

"Mr Carson," she responded.

He threw his hands up in surrender. "I'll get one of the maids to check on you before dinner and bring you up something."

"Thank you," she said, her voice much softer.

He picked up the tea tray and headed towards the door. With his hand on the door handle he turned to look back at her. "Get some sleep."

"Yes, Mr Carson," she said with a smile, turning over as he closed the door behind him.

**4**

Carson entered the library and announced his presence. "M'Lord, you rang."

"Ah, Carson, Anna tells me Mrs Hughes is not getting any better," the Earl of Grantham explained, turning from his desk. "She seemed worried."

**"**She does seem to be getting worse, M'Lord."

"Would you like me to phone Doctor Clarkson?"

Charles shuffled nervously, avoiding eye contact with his master.

"Is there a problem, Carson?"

"I do not think she would appreciate his visit," Carson offered finally, unsure how to deal with the situation.

The Earl nodded, twenty plus years of marriage under his belt. "In that case you may tell her that it was my decision to call the doctor." He furrowed his brow as he considered something. "We can tell her that we were worried about it spreading through the household."

Either way, Charles knew he would somehow get the blame."Very good, M'Lord." He moved to make his discreet exit.

"Carson."

He stopped in his tracks, swivelling to face him once again.

"Let Mrs Hughes know we're all thinking of her when you next visit." Although it had only been twenty-four hours since she had taken to her bed her absence was already being noticed. Mrs Hughes ran the house with a formidable grace, quietly, efficiently and with little fuss. The house and Mr Carson seemed strangely unbalanced without her daily presence. Robert liked calm and normality. He was also fond of the Scot and dry sense of humour.

Carson retreated from the room, an apology to Elsie already forming in his mind. As he returned to his work he found himself lost in the flurry of activity below stairs. It was only later as he was checking on the silver for dinner that he remembered his Lordship's parting comment – _when you next visit – _and the knowing smile he had given when he made it.

**5**

"I'm going to be gone all tomorrow afternoon," Anna declared as she leaned over the bed, tucking in the corners of the blanket.

"I know."

"Will you be alright?"

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Of course. All I do is sleep."

Anna removed the jug of water from the night stand and replaced it with a fresh one."I'll make sure to bring you lunch, fresh water and a Beachams powder before I leave."

"Don't fuss, Anna, I'll be fine for one afternoon." she chided, closing her eyes as the room spun before her. "Please give him my l . . . Regards." Love was such a hard word to use even now. She had spent so long trying to forget about love that she no longer allowed herself to feel it in any context, reverting to fondness and respect for those that merited it. "I'm very fond of him." Tears pricked at her eyes and she squeezed the bridge of her nose to stop them flowing over her cheeks.

"I know. I think he's very fond of you too." Anna gave a shy smile. "I'll make sure I check on you when I get back."

**6**

Anna opened the door and turned on the small side lamp on the dresser before crossing the room to the patient. "If she's sleeping maybe we should leave her be," she said, glancing down at the small blanket wrapped bundle. It had been barely an hour since she had left the room and now she was back with the doctor in tow.

Elsie opened her eyes, adjusting uncomfortably to the sudden light, shifting position so that she could see who was speaking.

"Mrs Hughes, it's Dr Clarkson," he announced moving closer to the bed. He could see instantly that she looked worse than the call had suggested.

"I told him not to call you," she complained hoarsely, barely recognising her own voice.

The doctor pulled the arm chair closer to the bed and sat down. "His Lordship was concerned for you."

She tried and failed to sit up, landing unceremoniously back on the pillow, the ache in her back causing her to grimace.

Gently he took her wrist in his hand and felt for her pulse. After a few seconds of massaging he finally found a faint beat, concerned he felt for her forehead. "You seem to have a fever," he said mildly, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I have influenza," she said firmly, struggling to keep her eyes open. She had been sick before but she had never felt so tired, her body seeming to shut down after the slightest of exertion.

"Have you been coughing? Vomiting?" He continued to question her, his hand gently touching hers, making assessments as he went. "Headache? Any delirium?" It was a stupid question but he needed to ask it.

She nodded mutely, her eyes drifting closed as the world spun on it's axis.

Moving until he was leaning over her, he lifted her eyelids gently, not liking what he saw. He turned to the young maid in the door frame. "Anna, isn't it?" At her nod he continued in a professional tone. "She needs cool wet towels, and a cool bath if you can manage it, plenty of fluids and plenty of rest. Give her aspirin six hourly if she can keep it down. Get his Lordship to call me if she gets any worse. I would move her to the hospital but she would probably be more comfortable here."

Anna's eyes widened, "It's not . . . ?" she trailed off, not really wanting to voice her fear. The housekeeper was clearly sick, just how sick she hadn't been aware until a few minutes before. It didn't bare thinking about. Her thoughts sprung to how angry she had been with Mrs Hughes on the day of the trial and she quietly berated herself.

"She has influenza, and a nasty case of it," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he glanced back at the bed. "I'll organise some medicine and you'll need to see she gets it."

"Oh course, Doctor."

"I'll be fine in a few days," the rather restless patient mumbled, throwing the covers off of her as her temperature soared.

Dr Clarkson turned away, giving her some resemblance of modesty. "I'm sure you will, Mrs Hughes, in the meantime Anna will take care of you and I'll be back tomorrow." He patted her hand and walked towards the door, ignoring her protests. "Go back to sleep."

**6****  
****  
**The Earl and his butler were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as the doctor made his way down. He inwardly groaned and fixed a smile on his lips.

"Dr Clarkson. How is she?"

Although it was the Earl who asked, he couldn't help but notice the Butler's incessant fidgeting and look of consternation on his face. He addressed them both. "She has a strain of influenza. She's very sick. As I said to your maid I would move her to the hospital but she's better off resting in her own bed. I'll be back to check on her tomorrow and I've left Anna will instructions for her care."

"Is it Spanish flu?" Carson asked, suddenly a little scared. While he had been struck down with a mild dose the previous year, he knew the devastation the illness could cause. He couldn't bear to think of her suffering in that way.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. But she's been under a little strain lately, hasn't she, so the virus may have worn down her immune system. I've left some medication but what she needs is plenty of rest."

"She'll get it. Carson, you'll make sure of it?"

"Yes M'Lord," Charles said perfunctory. Elsie would get anything and everything she needed. He would make sure she was taken care of even if it meant doing it himself. She would do no less for him, and had on numerous occasions.

"I'll come by tomorrow," Dr Clarkson said, gathering his coat. "But call me if there is any change."


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies for the delay in posting but a busy week and the heat are distracting my muse.**

**Thank you for the kind comments.**

**Part Five**

The luncheon table had been relatively quiet with the absence of both Mrs Hughes and Anna. Conversation had been even more muted than usual and without an ally in the room Charles had found himself withdrawing from the usual chatter and concentrating on his food. Once everyone had finished their meal, the table had been cleared and the staff had their list of tasks for the afternoon, he had made his way to the kitchen and collected the ready prepared tray. If he was lucky, or rather had organised everything efficiently enough, he would have at least two hours before anyone came looking for him. He intended to make the most of it.

Knocking lightly on her door, he entered the room without waiting for an invitation. The dark heavy curtains were drawn and he had to adjust to the blackness before he could make his way into the room. Quietly he crossed the carpet and placed the tray on the night stand before opening the curtains and settling himself in the armchair.

Elsie barely stirred in the bed beside him.

She looked so peaceful that he almost didn't have the heart to wake her but he knew that if he left her she wouldn't have anything to eat all day and that wouldn't help her. His eyes lingered on her face briefly before they trailed to her exposed shoulder, his mind drifting lower, forming a picture that had him swallowing hard. Although inappropriate, especially under the circumstances, he couldn't resist a solitary moment of pleasure. All too soon propriety was restored. Reluctantly, he leaned in until his face was barely inches from hers. "Elsie," he whispered, resisting the urge to brush the hair from her face and allow his fingertips to dance across her cheek. "Elsie, you need to wake up."

Her eyelids opened only to flutter shut again. "Charles?" she asked sleepily.

He smiled mildly. They rarely addressed each other on first name terms, every mindful of the professional line, but in the last few days they had found themselves slipping. It was a new and welcome change to their relationship, one he hoped would continue when she returned to work. "I brought you some soup and your medicine."

Elsie groaned, flinging her hand over her eyes. "That stuff tastes horrible."

"Dr Clarkson says it will make you feel better," he said quietly, resisting the urge to agree with her. Every medicine the doctor had ever recommended seemed to taste of aniseed, which was the last taste you wanted in your mouth when you felt sick.

"Or kill me," she grumbled sarcastically. She tried to sit up but she could barely move. In the first couple of days sleeping had made her feel rejuvenated, in the last day or so sleep only released her of her headache, nothing more. "Help?" she asked feebly.

Charles wasn't sure what to do or what she wanted. As she pushed down the sheet he realised two things – that she expected him to touch her and she was wearing nothing except her slip. He hesitated, glancing towards the door as if one of the maids might come to his rescue. But no one was going to come; he had made sure of that with his endless list of things for them to do.

"Need to lift me up," she mumbled, raising her arms a little, and gazing up at him under hooded lids, a slight red hue to her cheeks.

Charles rose steadily to his feet, slipping his hands under her arms and pulling her up into the sitting position. He held his breath until his hands finally released her body. "There you go." He continued to stare at the ceiling, waiting for her to adjust the sheets to reclaim her modesty. When she didn't move he reached over and pulled up the sheet, tucking it around her upper torso. His hands brushed her waist and his breath caught in his throat, suddenly only too aware of the feel of her body in his hands. Turning, he mentally started counting to ten, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts in his head; it took to thirty before he could look at her again. Unscrewing the medicine bottle he tipped a small amount of the tar black liquid into a measuring cup.

Elsie's eyes narrowed and she pulled a face as he lifted the cup to her lips but obediently she opened her mouth and swallowed her medicine. Her face contorted as it hit the back of her throat. "He really is trying to kill me."

His lips tweaked up into a grin. "And how many times have you poured that stuff down my throat?" Replacing the cup on the tray he picked up a spoon. "Are you up to some soup?"

She shrugged and grimaced as pain shot up her back. She didn't really fancy anything, not that it tasted of anything anyhow and then there was her lack of energy. In recent days Anna had taken to feeding her, offering small amounts of food as often as Elsie would take them. The idea that Charles would have to feed her unnerved her. "Where's Anna?"

"She's visiting Mr Bates. You're stuck with me this afternoon I'm afraid." He had planned it perfectly. The maids were all occupied with tasks, Thomas was in the village running errands and Miss O'Brien was spending the afternoon mending. She would, he knew, keep her eye on the girls and as much as that would normally concern him, today it didn't. All of which gave him a few hours to take care of Elsie until Anna returned. "Now are you going to be good and eat something?" he asked, waving the spoon at her. "Or do I have to find some punishment worthy of the crime?"

She gave him her famous death stare but he merely grinned back at her. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"No." He lifted the bowl from the tray and held it in his hand. "Mrs Patmore made a vat of this this morning. She's determined no one else is going to get sick." Carefully he lifted the spoon to her mouth. "It should be cool enough by now not to burn your mouth."

Elsie took the spoon in her mouth, once, twice and over again, swallowing each mouthful as he watched over her. Although barely luke warm she had to admit it didn't taste bad, just a little wasted on her.

"I brought up a book. I thought I could read to you for a while." Charles shifted awkwardly in the chair as he dipped the spoon back into the dish.

She shook her head as he lifted the spoon to her mouth once more. The bowl was still half full but her stomach was already full.

"Done?" He returned the bowl to the tray. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm cold." Her body trembled as if to reiterate her point.

Charles looked around the room, his eyes settling on the end of the bed. Unfolding the blanket he placed it gently over her. "Better?"

"Thank you," she said almost inaudibly feeling the warmth spread through her body.**  
****  
**"Are you feeling any better today?" he asked, his concern evident in his eyes as he pulled the chair closer to the bed and settled himself against the arm.

She debated lying to him but thought better of it. "Not really. I feel a little better when I wake up, but then I get so tired so quickly and everything aches." She coughed as to prove her point, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Would you like me to read to you?"

"Depends what book you want to inflict on me."

Charles held up a solid bound book. "The Lost World."

Elsie scrunched up her face. "I'm not sure I'm up to that. Maybe we could talk a little." They wouldn't have long, she knew, between the needs of the household and her constant requirement to sleep. Her throat was starting to ache again but she didn't want him to leave without at least trying to talk to him.

"Okay, what shall we talk about? How about the ins and outs of downstairs?" Charles suggested ironically. Generally he tried to steer them away from the gossip and drama but he wasn't sure what else was a suitable topic of conversation for the patient.

She shook her head, for once not in the least bit interested in the household. Later she would blame it on the medicine or the illness but in that moment she didn't much care what he thought, only that she said it. She swallowed hard, her eyes fixated on the wall behind him rather than his face. "Have you thought much about what happens when you retire?"

He gave a hollow laugh. "I was planning to go out of here in a box."

"If you don't take it easy you will be," she said softly but with emotion. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot lately."

Charles didn't like the turn the conversation had taken**. **"I'm sure his Lordship will find a cottage for you, in the village maybe, but you have a good number of years left yet," he said, his voice betraying little of the emotions welling up inside him. The idea of leaving service was a hard enough one as it was but the idea that she was already thinking about it caused a distinct pain in his stomach. They had worked side by side for over ten years, their patterns so in synch that it felt like they had been together forever. Anna was good and professional but he could never imagine having such a relationship with her.

"I'm not so sure," Elsie said quietly as she closed her eyes briefly and opened them to look into his.

"Are you feeling worse?" He asked, mentally chastising himself for not noticing, for not picking up the signs. For a second he considered a more tragic thought than her leaving service. The pain in his stomach tightened.

"No. Yes. A little. I'm sure sleep will aid the process. I just mean I'm not getting any younger. And I do not seem to recover from these things quite as easily as I used to. There will come a point where the pain does not go away, or the stairs become too much."

"And then we'll talk about it," he assured her more confidently than he felt. Then a more frightening prospect dawned on him, causing his stomach to churn further. "You would stay around these parts?" **  
****  
**She rubbed her face with her hand, blocking out the intensity of his eyes, feeling light headed all of a sudden. "Of course. This is my home."

He let out the breath he had been holding in a rush of air. The prospect that she would leave the village and return to Argyll or move in with her sister was not one he could comprehend. They would of course exchange letters but they would become fewer and far between, maybe a visit in the first year, a plan to get together the next, until she disappeared from his life altogether. If she stayed it would be almost like nothing had changed.

Her hand came to rest on his, their first contact since he had moved her. "Charles," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You can stop worrying. I fully intend to spend the rest of my days in the shadow of Downton."

His gaze fell to their hands, his heart beating a fraction faster at the contact."Thank god," he muttered under his breath.

She fell silent and he allowed them to lapse into companionable silence before he realised she had drifted off, her hand slipping back onto the bed. He pondered what to do, debating whether to stay, just to be near her, or whether to go, allowing her to rest.

Elsie opened her eyes. "Sorry, I'm not much company."

"It is me that should be sorry." He rose reluctantly to his feet. "You get some rest and I'll come back tomorrow."

"Alright," she mumbled, lolling back against the pillow. Although it wasn't. She didn't want him to leave but she knew she couldn't ask him to stay to keep her company.

Charles drew the curtains and picked up the tray, his eyes drawn to her as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her eyes open. "I'll send Anna up to check on you when she gets back." He waited for a response but found himself listening to her soft snores.


	6. Chapter 6

**This will be the last part for a week or so as I'm off on holiday. Will probably tweak the last few chapters (there will be nine in total) while I chill out by the pool so they should be up fairly quickly after that.**

**Love reading all the nice comments. Hope you get the ending you want. ;)**

**Part Six****  
**  
It had been another early start for Charles, largely because he found himself unable to sleep. His thoughts and now his dreams continually returned to the Scottish housekeeper and the brief moments they shared together. By six am he had already worked his way through the household ledger and filed the invoices, by seven he had selected the silver and linens for dinner. Now he wandered through the reception rooms, checking the Drawing room for stray glasses from the previous evening, running his fingers along the bookcases in the Library checking for dust, and finally entering the Sitting room to check on the maids. So far it was all going well, or at least he hoped it was because his mind wasn't entirely focused on the task at hand. All he could think about since the previous afternoon was Elsie and their conversation, his emotions flickering between fear and excitement, concern and love. Logically he knew it was only because she was sick that her thoughts had turned to what came next, yet he was also a little bit relieved that she was planning ahead. A larger, more apprehensive, part of him hoped that she wasn't thinking of leaving him just yet, but now all he could think about was the future and how he imagined her being such a major part of his.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, Charles walked purposefully into the Dining room, and positioned himself by the serving table. His eyes surveyed the room and he nodded to Thomas, indicating that he was no longer required. **  
**  
The door opened and he found himself pulling himself up even straighter, his thoughts drawn back to service.

"Good morning Carson.""Good morning, your Lordship."**  
**  
The Earl crossed to the table and picked up a plate**. **"How is Mrs Hughes this morning?" He opened a domed serving dish and spooned a generous helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate.

Carson cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the personal nature of the conversation. "I sent Anna up to check on her, M'Lord." The last thing he wanted was everyone knowing that he was calling on Elsie every chance he got, it would be unprofessional to begin with and he did not think Elsie would appreciate the household gossiping about her. He mentally chided himself, repeating Mrs Hughes over and over in his head, in the hope he could avoid referring to her by her first name in the company of his Lordship.

Robert dropped a sausage onto his plate and turned to face him, unable to mask his surprise. "You haven't been up yourself?" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. While the servants may like to discuss the family affairs as though they were a novel, his daughters and his wife were prone to discuss the servants. He knew how devoted the Housekeeper and Butler were to each other and had been reliably informed that Carson visited Mrs Hughes at least once or twice a day. Clearly the visits were not early morning ones.

"No, M'Lord." After his little visit the previous afternoon he had been avoiding the housekeeper's room and probably would until he came to a decision about his own future.

Robert continued to watch him, somewhat amused by the range of emotions crossing his face. "Did she shout at you?" he finally asked.

Carson looked up to find himself the centre of attention. "No, why should she?" He needed to pay more attention, he decided, or he was going to get into serious trouble.

"Women are prone to engaging us in rhetoric debate when they are feeling less than on par."

"I wouldn't let Mama hear you say that," Mary said, entering the room. "Good morning, Carson. How is Mrs Hughes?" she asked with a smile.

Inwardly he groaned but found himself saying, "You may be better placed to ask Anna that question." Clearing his throat he clarified, so as not to sound impertinent, "I asked her to take up some breakfast and check on her."

Mary's grin widened. "I'll make sure to do that." She hovered around the breakfast foods, finally making her selection and moving towards the table.

Carson stepped over to her chair and pulled it out for her, waiting for her to be seated before fetching the teapot.

"Of course when you call on her later, please pass on my regards and wish her a speedy recovery," Mary said, her eyes widening in challenge, willing him in denial.

He lowered his head rather than roll his eyes at her and replied sternly, "Yes, M'lady."

"And what are your plans for today," Robert asked, turning his attention to his oldest daughter.

Carson sighed in relief, a brief reprieve in his torture.

11111

Elsie patted the blankets down around her, and pulled up the sheet to her chest. Running her fingers through her hair, hanging in a loose plait over her shoulder, she glanced towards the door.

Anna smiled mischievously. Licking her lips, she said quietly, "He may be a little late, dinner ran over."

Elsie turned to her young charge, her eyes widening. "Who? I don't what you mean."

"Mr Carson said to say he would be up a little late as dinner was slightly delayed," she offered with a straight face. She would never impose herself on someone else's private life but she also wasn't blind. It was sweet the way he came to check on the Housekeeper every day, sitting with her when he could and pacing the corridor outside her door when Anna was feeding her supper. She hoped that they were finally breaking down the barriers between friendship and love. "I'm going to bed. If you need anything get Mr Carson to knock." She bobbed her head and crossed the carpet to the door. "Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."

"Goodnight Anna." Elsie pulled her shawl round her shoulders, shivering as the door closed and a sharp breeze blew through the room. Her sleep had been fitful all day as she alternated between chills and fever, her body aching and her mind foggy. The constant supply of water Anna brought her had done little to calm her and the medicine tasted so foul that she purposefully didn't ask for more. What she really needed was more sleep but she fought the urge to drift off. In the last few days she had found herself looking forward to his visit, him perching beside her bed and regaling her with stories of the house or listening as she rambled on. It certainly hadn't escaped her notice that they were falling into a pattern, one that would eventually lead them to a happy and contented retirement, if he let it of course. She wasn't convinced that his devotion to service and his need for complete propriety wouldn't lead to long lonely days for both of them. They had never spoked of what would happen when their time came to an end but she had always hoped that they would spend their days in a cottage on the estate, taking care of each other.

A gentle knock on her door broke through her reverie and she looked up as he entered the room. Charles Carson was by definition the very model of a Butler with his straight shoulders, formidable frown and commanding voice. Even at such a late hour he prowled the house in his finery, never one to discard a jacket or settle for anything less than collar and tie. Not that she minded. In fact she loved him all the more for it.

"I wasn't sure you would still be awake."

"Fall asleep and miss hearing about your day," she said with a smile. "Never." Her brow furrowed as she saw the unmistakeable drop of his shoulders. "Is everything alright, Mr Carson?"

Charles crossed the room and settled himself in the chair. "Just a long day, Mrs Hughes," he offered wearily, rubbing a hand over his brow.

"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly feeling guilty that she was laying in bed while he took on so much of her work.

His head shot up. "I didn't mean. . . You take as long as you need to get better." He reached for her hand, patting it gently before he moved to take it back.

Elsie grabbed his hand, lightly rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

His eyes drifted to their hands, marvelling at how delicate her skin looked, almost opaque against his, how soft her touch was, then how cold she felt. Turning his hand over he covered hers with his own, stroking it gently as he tried to impart warmth.

She momentarily lost the ability to breath, her own gaze drawn to their hands, aware suddenly of his proximity, of a sudden heat coursing through her body that had nothing to do with her sickness. "Talk to me," she said breathless.

Charles hesitated, debating how wise it was to share his thoughts, his decisions, his concerns with her. It had taken all day for him to reach a conclusion on the sort of future he wanted but telling her wasn't so easy. The possibility that she wouldn't want the same things made it hard for him to swallow. He felt her hand gently squeeze his and he found his voice. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," he said, staring at their hands entwined on the bed.

"What nonsense did I spout?" she asked, her tone light and laced with amusement.

"You were talking about what you were going to do when you leave service." He could hardly believe she had forgotten when it was all he could think about. His brow furrowed as he avoided her gaze.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled. "What have you been thinking?"

"That when the time comes for you to leave, that maybe I would go too. We could ask his Lordship for a cottage on the estate," he started, his breath catching in his throat. "And maybe we could retire together."

"I can't imagine you retiring." Her heart beat a little faster in her chest at the look of apprehension on his truth neither could he until he had heard her talking about it.

"I've been thinking about it more and more. I wouldn't want to let the family down if I couldn't maintain standards."

"No, I don't suppose you would," she said seemingly accepting his answer for what it was – a trace of the truth.

"I was thinking, hoping, that we could maybe get a cottage together. Spend the time we have left as companions," he volunteered, not entirely sure how to describe what he wanted them to be. "Running a slightly smaller house together."

"That doesn't sound much like retirement," she commented dryly. His meaning was clear, even if he was struggling to say the words and Elsie rather liked the way he kept saying together.

He took a breath and threw caution to the wind. "Elsie, darling, I don't care what we do, as long as I'm with you." His eyes fluttered shut and he missed the tender look she gave him. _Three days ago you had barely been able to address her by her first name and now you're bestowing terms of endearment, _her voice in his head teased him, _what next a marriage proposal_.

"Charles," she said softly, squeezing his hand.

He gazed up at her beneath hooded lids and found her looking at him with an expression of amazement and a hint of something else. "I shouldn't have. . ."

"Yes, I don't think I'd want to spend my days any other way."

"Really?" he asked, his tone laced with amazement despite his beaming smile.

She nodded, a smile tweaking at her lips as she closed her eyes, sleep getting the better of her. "**I**'m suddenly very tired."

"I shouldn't keep you up so late. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow." He rose to his feet, pausing briefly to watch as she snuggled down under the blankets. Once she was comfortable he pulled the blanket over her and leaned over. It was impulsive but he couldn't help himself, his lips brushing her hair, imparting the softest of kisses to her forehead.

She mumbled something in her sleep, tilting her head to his lips.

His fingers traced the skin where his lips had been, a frown forming on his face as he noted her temperature. Briefly he gazed down at her, wondering at the latest development in his life before quietly, so not as to wake her, letting himself out of his room. He was unlocking the connecting door when he changed his mind. Backtracking, he made his way down the corridor, lightly knocking on another door.

Anna appeared seconds later in her night gown, hair hanging loosely over her shoulder, clearly roused from sleep. "Mr Carson, is Mrs Hughes alright?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Her temperature is back up but she needs sleep. Check on her in the morning, I'll get the other maids to cover for you. If she's no better we'll fetch the doctor," he instructed, barely keeping his emotions in check.

"Yes, Mr Carson."

"Report to me if she is any worse."

"I can sleep in her room, if you think it would be prudent," Anna offered as he began to leave. In truth she hated sleeping in her own room alone. She barely slept anyway, counting down the days until she lost her husband forever. The opportunity to be of some use to someone else was her only saving grace.

"I couldn't ask that."

"I will anyway." Anna disappeared into her room, returning with the thin woollen blanket off of her bed. "Her chair is plenty comfortable enough. Goodnight Mr Carson," she said as they walked the few steps to the House keepers room.

"Goodnight Anna."**  
**  
As he locked the connecting door and made his way to his room he knew he would sleep fitfully, his thoughts turning frequently to the woman down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

A week in the sun seems to have worked wonders for my muse. The final chapters are written and almost tweaked so this should be complete by the end of the week. Hope you enjoy.

**Part Seven**

Anna woke to the sound of soft mumbling. Briefly she wondered where she was then it all came back, the late night knock on her door and her willingness to sit with the sick woman. As she opened her eyes and adjusted to the dimness of the room, she had to admit it was the least fitful nights sleep she'd had in months.

The woman in the bed was thrashing about, her hair no longer secure in her braid, her face glistening with beads of sweat, her hands colliding with the furniture around her.

Anna rose to her feet, regretting her sudden movements as her back creaked, and moved to the bed. Dropping to her knees, she placed her hand on the housekeeper's forehead, snatching it away almost immediately at the intense heat she felt. The mumbling became louder as the agitation increased, words and names Anna recognised jumbled with nonsense. Gently Anna began to stroke her hair, whispering words of calm, holding her hand, as the older woman had on many occasions for her. After a while it seemed to calm her mildly and she continued to sleep.

The sharp rise in temperature and the agitation was enough to concern Anna greatly, enough to circumvent a few of Mrs Hughes rules. With a small concerned backwards glance, Anna crossed the corridor and rapped on the nearest door. When there was no answer after a second knock, she entered the room and made her way to the bed.

"Daisy," she whispered, her voice rising slightly at the lack of response, the prodding becoming more violent. "Daisy, wake up."

"Anna?" eventually came a drowsy mumble.

"I need you to get up."

The cocoon rolled over and a pair of eyes peeked out at her. "What time is it? Did I sleep in?"

"No, I need you to get me some water and towels." Anna got back to her feet. "Mrs Hughes is worse, much worse."

The connotation that Anna's words had seemed to arouse Daisy from her sleepiness. Throwing back the covers she almost bounced from the bed and threw on her dress, her corset forgotten. "How bad is she?" The words though softly spoken were fearful.

Anna shook her head, "I don't know. But I'm going to call for Dr Clarkson." Leaving Daisy behind she headed down the corridor but had only taken a few steps when she turned and walked back to the locked door between the male and female quarters. Lifting the key from its hook she unlocked the door and took the first step over the threshold. She was about to break her third rule of the night and although the thought fleeting crossed her mind she didn't much care.

"What are you doing?" Daisy asked, her voice revealing her dismay.

"Ssh. Getting Mr Carson. Daisy. Go." Anna hesitated only momentarily before knocking on the Butler's door as loudly as she dare, the urgency of her mission the only thing on her mind.

It was less than a minute before the door opened and he stood before her in his pyjamas, hair sticking out in all directions, red faced. The bluster faltered as he caught sight of Anna in her nightgown, barefoot, brow furrowed. "Anna? What's happened?"

"I think we need the doctor." She turned on her heel and headed back into the female corridor, her worries halved, knowing that he would know what to do.

Charles followed her back to Mrs Hughes room, his chest pounding at what he might find there. He took one look at the ghost of a woman in the bed and retreated from the room, almost knocking over Daisy as he hurried toward the stairs.

/

When the staff awoke they were surprised to find the door between the corridors open and Mr Carson fully dressed standing in the doorway to the Housekeeper's room. By the time the household awoke, the staff were already part way through their day and Charles was standing in the great hallway, staring up the stairs.

"Mr Carson," the Earl said, making his way down the stairs, Isis at his feet, "Thomas tells me that the doctor is here."

"Yes M'lord. Mrs Hughes took a turn for the worst in the night."

"Is she alright?"

The words 'no, God damn, she looks like death' lingered on his tongue but he swallowed them. "The doctor is with her, as are Mrs Crawley and Anna. Anna woke me around four and we called for him straight away."

"Isobel is here?" The surprise was evident in his tone but he couldn't help himself. It was not yet nine and his cousin was already in the house, and acting as a nurse. The hows and whys were a little more than he was willing to ask, better that he leave that for his wife.

Carson nodded. "Dr Clarkson thought she would be of some assistance so we sent the car for her."

"Maybe you should be up there," he offered thoughtfully. "We can manage breakfast without you just this once."

"I have been banished, M'lord," the Butler stated flatly, his face conveying his thoughts on that.

A smile crept across the Earl's face despite the situation. "Dr Clarkson? Ah, Isobel banished you?" he said, his grin widening. As fond as he was of his cousin he was more than aware of formidable she could be. Poor Carson he mused.

"She didn't think Mrs Hughes would want me to see her in that way," Charles mumbled, his cheeks taking on a slight red hue of embarrassment.

"Nothing to do with the look of panic on your face."

"M'lord?"

The Earl waved his hand, dismissing the comment. "Have Dr Clarkson come through to the dining room when he's finished upstairs. The least we can do is feed him breakfast. Mrs Crawley too."

"Very good, M'Lord. I'll have one of the footmen lay the extra places."

Twenty minutes later the door to the dining room opened and Isobel and Dr Clarkson entered, both fully dressed in business attire, both looking as though they had been up for hours.

"Isobel," Robert said, rising to his feet and moving to greet her. "Please join us for breakfast." He turned his attention to the doctor, acutely aware of the fidgeting movement in the corner of the room as the Butler tried to restrain himself from enquiring what was happening. "Doctor, my apologies for calling you out at such an early hour."

"It is no trouble, your Lordship."

"How is Mrs Hughes?" Robert asked kindly, his concern genuine.

"Anna is running her a cool bath and then she and Mrs Crawley are going to put Mrs Hughes in it. Her fever has become dangerously high, spiking at a point which I would deem unsafe. If we cannot break it soon then I fear there may be lasting complications."

"You have something to ask, Carson?" Robert asked, mildly amused by the distraction of the Butler at the edge of the room.

Carson cleared his throat and shuffled forward. "Would it not be better to transfer Els . . .Mrs Hughes to the hospital?"

"There would be little point. There is nothing the nurses there could . . ." the Doctor started.

"Nothing?" he interrupted, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

"What I meant to say is that everything that could be done there is being done here. Mrs Crawley has kindly offered to monitor Mrs Hughes for the next few hours. If her fever hasn't dropped by then we may need to rethink our treatment plan."

"She seemed to be getting better."

"Yes, that would be the usual course. A sudden onset followed by two or three days of the patient feeling particularly unwell and then a few days to regain their strength. Its unusual for there to be so many peaks and troughs but then it could be that she has in fact picked up several viruses in a row. I have seen this before and it is usually brought on by associated exhaustion or a weakened immune system."

"God knows she doesn't give it a rest," Carson mumbled earning himself a few raised eyebrows from around the table.

"Maybe she feels she has something to prove to you," Mary offered gently, sipping her tea and watching him carefully over the top of her tea cup.

"Mrs Hughes is a most capable Housekeeper. Her work ethic is second to none," he snorted, rushing to defend her.

"Second to you. Maybe it is time you both took it a little easier."

He grumbled something inaudible.

"It will take her some time to get back on her feet which should mean she gets the rest she needs," the doctor added, placing his plate on the table and taking a seat opposite Isobel.

"It won't be a problem," Charles started then stopped as his Lordship turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry what I mean is that Anna is doing a fine job, your Lordship. She is more than capable of holding the fort and I am dealing with the invoices."

"I am well aware of that, Carson. But what happens when you two wear yourself into the ground?"

Charles stared at his feet, unsure how to respond without sounding improper.

"Let's hope the status quo is returned by then," Isobel interjected, shooting Carson a smile, "Or we're all have Mrs Hughes to answer too."

He allowed himself a small smile in return. God help them all if Elsie returned to work and he hadn't taken proper care of Anna or himself.

/

Charles turned the corner into the female corridor and walked purposefully towards the Housekeeper's room. He hesitated at the door and turned to walk back towards the stairs. Seconds later he turned on his heel and headed back towards the door. He almost changed his mind again but the door opened and Isobel appeared before him. He started. "Mrs Crawley."

"Mr Carson?"

"I was coming to check on Mrs Hughes?"

Her lips curled upwards into a smile. "That's why you've been pacing up and down for the last ten minutes."

He had the good graces to look sheepish.

Lightly she patted his arm. "Her fever is still high but it has fallen mildly. I was just going to fetch another wet towel." She indicated the dry ball of towelling in her hand. "You can go in if you wish."

"I wouldn't want to disturb her," he acknowledged when in truth he needed nothing more than to know she was alright.

"She's sleeping." Isobel pushed the door open further into the room. "Quite peacefully I can assure you."

Charles peered round the door and focused his eyes on the bed. A pool of covers spilled over the end of the bed as she lay on her back with a single white sheet draped over her tiny frame.

"I will be back shortly."

As Isobel headed to the bathroom, Charles took a step into the room and hovered at the end of the bed. She looked better than she had that morning, colour one more flushing her cheeks. Her hands at her side looked almost translucent against the sheet and her hair clung to her face in wet curls but she looked like Elsie again, not the ghost he had awoken to that morning. The room was silent except for her breathing and he found himself caught in the gentle rhythm. Desperately he wanted to touch her, but it was risky under the circumstances, instead he gripped the end of the bed, listening intently to the breathing, watching as her chest rose and fell.

"I will tell her you called when she wakes up," Isobel announced, silently returning to the room. "She is really much better," she added softly. "You can stop looking quite so panicked."

Charles turned to look at her, finally tearing his attention from the sleeping woman at her last comment. "Is one not to be concerned for ones contemporaries?"

"Of course Carson, but for a man who by the very nature of his employment is supposed to hide his emotions, opinions and thoughts, you are not today doing a very good job," she offered matter-of-factly but without a hint of annoyance.

He flushed despite himself.

"But you do not need to be so concerned, she is on the mend. I will stay her with her this afternoon, and again tomorrow if necessary. Anna will stay with her through the night." There was so little purpose for her some days and her skills had not been needed for some time. This was a chance for her to be useful and she intended to make the most of it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice catching in his throat at her generosity.

"Now you should get back to work. I don't think either of you would appreciate it being known that you were here while she was in this state of undress." She gave him a small smile and took the armchair by the bed, tucking her feet under her as she settled in for the afternoon.

"May I send up something for you? Some tea? A sandwich?"

"Thank you, Carson. That would be appreciated."

Charles took one last look at the patient and turned to leave, his footsteps lighter as he headed back to work.

/

He knew he was being more ferocious than normal, but not only did he not care, he also knew no one would call him on it. "I will not have this sort of talk at the table," he finally barked, shooting Thomas and O'Brien a look that he felt sure would garner him little argument. He was wrong. Thomas could not resist one final dig.

As Charles began to rise from his seat, his angry flooding his senses, a red hue flushing his skin, he felt a small delicate hand come to rest on his arm. For a second he allowed himself to believe it was hers. Then he remembered and his whole body began to sag in memory of where she was and what was going on.

"We've all finished, Mr Carson," Anna said, her voice calm and soothing. "How about I get Daisy to bring you some tea in your pantry?"

He turned to look at her, about to protest that he did not want or need tea but she continued unperturbed by his angry expression.

"We won't be needed upstairs for a little while. I can go check on Mrs Hughes before the gong and allow Mrs Crawley to go home, then see to the girls."

He nodded, no longer wanting to argue with her, thankful for the chance to escape. Rising abruptly without a word to anyone he headed towards the pantry.

"I hope Mrs Hughes gets better soon," Sarah O'Brien announced. "I'm not sure how much more any of us can take."

"Right now I'd just settle for her getting _better_," Anna commented with a sigh. "As I'm sure does he." She rose herself and turned to the maids at the table. "As you heard I'm going to be engaged for the next hour or so. Please clear and then get ready to assist Mr Carson with dinner." She walked purposefully into the kitchen. "Daisy, be a love and take Mr Carson some tea."

"She's busy with dinner," Mrs Patmore grumbled, lifting the heavy pan of potatoes off of the stove. Carrying them to the sink she turned on her way, taking in Anna's demeanour. "How bad is he tonight?"

"Bad! I think he was intent on doing Thomas physical harm a little while ago."

There was a deep groan before Beryl tipped the potatoes into the colander and turned to the young scullery maid. "In that case, Daisy, go. You look like you could do with a cup yourself," she stated, giving Anna the once over.

Anna shook her head. "No time. I need to check on Mrs Hughes before I dress the girls."

"If you're not careful you'll end up in bed yourself."

"What's a bed?" she asked with a smile.

/

Charles shut the pantry door firmly with a resounding thud and made his way around the desk to his chair. He was usually so much better at controlling his emotions, although really he wasn't. It had taken Elsie's illness to remind him of the all the little things she did for him - a reassuring hand on his shoulder when times were bad, her hand on his arm to calm him, tea in her sitting room when he needed to vent his emotions. Although Anna tried, she lacked the one thing that made it work, she wasn't Elsie.

There was an almost timid knock and Daisy appeared, a tray in hand. "Anna said to bring you some tea," she announced, placing in on the desk and backtracking towards the door.

"Thank you, Daisy," he said to her fleeing form. The poor girl looked almost petrified as she bolted. There would be plenty of chastising and teasing when Elsie returned to work, of that he was certain, and somehow he was going to have to make it up to them, she would make sure of it. Maybe a night at the pub, he thought, while the two of them held the fort. He allowed himself a small smirk at the thought of a evening alone with her away from prying eyes and earning himself some brownie points at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**This took a while longer to tweak than I planned mainly due to real life issues but this is the penultimate part. Thank you for sticking with it.**

**Part Eight**

Charles walked along the dimly lit hallway, his step faltering at the sight of the doctor and Mrs Crawley conferring in whispers. He felt the muscles in his stomach tighten with each step, a blind fear settling in his mind at the prospect of what he was about to hear.

Isobel noticed him first, her hand coming to rest lightly on the doctor's arm to indicate they were no longer alone. She offered the Butler a smile as he came to a stop beside them.

"Ah, Mr Carson," Dr Clarkson said by way of greeting, his professional demeanour revealing nothing.

"Doctor. Mrs Crawley. May I get you something?"

Isobel shook her head with a knowing smile. "We're fine."

He wanted to ask how his friend was doing but he found he couldn't form the words, still fearful that she would take a turn for the worse and he would lose her. Instead he remained rooted to the spot, watching the silent interchange between the two. He wondered whether they were aware of how much they said through looks and touches, how in tune they appeared to everyone else. His thoughts wandered while he waited for them to decide whatever it was they were discussing. He had never expected to find someone to share his life, he had never really considered it an option for a life in service, instead he had devoted his life to learning his craft and taking the family as his own. What he hadn't anticipated was Elsie walking into his life. They may have never kissed or made a promise to each other but they were as much a part of each others lives as any married couple. Charles didn't want to spend the rest of his life without feeling her hand on his arm or sharing a shy smile and a knowing look at the latest going on in the house.

Minutes passed before Isobel's hand lightly squeezed the doctor's arm and she gave an almost the imperceptible nod of her head.

"She's had another bad morning, Mr Carson," Richard began, turning towards him.

There was a lengthy pause, years of practice Charles supposed for a doctor about to give bad news, before he spoke again. A thousand images of his life without her raced through his mind and he said a silent prayer and made a promise if she would live.

"But her temperature is back to normal, her pulse is stronger than it was last night." He allowed himself a reassuring smile. "Isobel and Anna are going to help her to take a bath, change the bed and then we can start her on a little food later. Isobel seems to have faith in the restorative properties of a bath." The doctor seemed not to notice his lack of formality with regard to the woman still holding his arm, and it barely registered with Charles as he let out a sudden rush of air and the room spun before his eyes.

"Oh dear," said Isobel, moving quickly to his side, and propping him up against the wall. "Take slow deep breaths," she urged, turning to Richard with a knowing look and wide grin. "Maybe you should take some tea. Sit down for a little while." Her hand gently ran the length of his back as she spoke in soothing tones. "Come back tonight when she's rested and feels more herself."

"But she will be alright?" he asked hoarsely, finally finding his voice.

"Yes," the doctor replied, rolling his eyes at Isobel's beaming grin. "Give it a week, a few days knowing Mrs Hughes, and she'll be back to work. I'd tell her to take it slowly but I don't think it will make a difference."

"Thank god," Charles sighed with feeling, leaning his head back against the wall. "Thank you both for taking care of her."

"You've been doing a pretty good job of that yourself," Isobel acknowledged quietly. "Now go get some tea. With plenty of sugar."

As he walked away he couldn't help but hear Isobel's chuckling, her voice barely above a whisper, her words not meant for him. "And I thought you were transparent, darling." He should be annoyed with her, and himself for that matter, but for once he allowed himself the moment. Elsie was going to be all right and nothing else mattered.

/

Carson hovered at the threshold to the bedroom. He had called on her almost every day since she had fallen ill, at least once a day since the doctor had confirmed that she was getting better but there still lacked an air of propriety in his entering her room. The sooner they could share tea in her sitting room of an evening the more comfortable he would feel but he had to check on her, he couldn't possibly sleep without knowing she was resting comfortably. Knocking lightly, he pushed open the door and stepped into the room, coming to a halt at the sight before him.

"Mr Carson," Anna greeted, rearranging the blankets on the bed. "I was just going to bed."

"How is she tonight?"

"I'm fine. Just wide awake," came a voice from underneath the blankets, a head appearing as Anna folded back the sheet.

Anna gave him a small smile. "The patient is having her second wind." She stepped away from the bed. "She wants someone to talk to."

He hesitated, for a second his professional demeanour taking over as he considered what the housemaid must make of the situation.

"Just knock on my door if you need anything." Anna slipped out of the room before he could protest, closing the door behind her.

"The poor girl looks exhausted," Elsie commented with a sigh.

"She's been worried about you. We all have." He walked around the bed and settled himself in the armchair a small distance from the bed.

"I don't think I'm going to be up and about for a while."

Charles took a second to study her face, momentarily concerned for her health, his features softening as he took in her rosy complexion and her shy smile. "We'll manage," he said confidently, relieved that she was well enough to consider her return to work. "How are you finding doing as you're told?"

"About as well as you do when you're none too good," she remarked cheekily.

He stifled the urge to stick his tongue out at her, settling for rolling his eyes good naturedly. "Is there anything you need, anything to make you more comfortable?"

She shook her head, adjusting her position to see him better. "I just feel sleepy all day and wide awake in the middle of the night."

"What did Doctor Clarkson say?"

"To sleep when I feel like sleeping," she groaned. "At this rate I'll be prowling the halls and planning the linens and china at dawn."

"I can stay a while if you want to talk," he offered not yet ready to leave her. Although if they kept this up for any length of time they would both be sleepwalking through their duties, he mused.

"Tell me about your day."

"The weather is improving. It has finally stopped snowing so I had Anna air the bedrooms today," he started. "His Lordship tried a new wine this evening, a beautiful red. Next time maybe we can have a glass together."

His tentative smile was quite endearing, she noted, shifting position to see him better in the light of her room. "How is everyone downstairs? I only get to see you and Anna."

"And Doctor Clarkson. And Mrs Crawley."

"Yes," she grinned, knowing full well that it would irritate him.

"Not that again. It's none of our business," Charles groaned with a shake of his head.

"Of course it isn't but its much more interesting than discussing linens and china patterns," Elsie retorted, grinning again.

He rolled his eyes, knowing they would never agree. "Everyone is fine downstairs. Thomas and O'Brien are up to something but quite frankly I don't have the time, or inclination, to deal with it. Mrs Patmore and I had a lengthy, frank discussion about the store cupboard. I won."

Elsie nodded with a smile. Although he didn't agree with her on the issue of running the store cupboard, he would never share his opinion with anyone else. In her absence he would carry on her wishes as if they were his own. "And Daisy?"

"Anna keeps an ear out and we try to run interference when we can, but in all fairness since we discussed a minor promotion the girl has been quite adept at dealing with the situation on her own."

"And my girls?"

Charles shuffled forward in the chair, his hands clasped in his lap. "I haven't witnessed any problems. They are doing a fair job in your absence."

She fell silent for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the young mother and former maid who she had been trying to take care of.

"I sent a note to Ethel and explained that you were sick. I hope that was alright."

Her hand reached for his, squeezing it lightly in gratitude. "Thank you, Charles."

"You know I don't agree with your visits but at least in your absence she can make arrangements and keep the boy fed."

He really was the sweetest man despite his gruff exterior. While most people rarely saw that side of him, she had been on the receiving end of his compassion and consideration on many occasions. She loved him dearly for it. "And how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he said, his tone dismissing her concern out of routine.

Elsie arched an eyebrow and increased the pressure of her fingertips on his hands.

"Don't fuss woman, things are a little busier but we're managing," Charles scoffed, his eyes falling on their hands.

"That wasn't what I asked."

He avoided the scrutiny of her gaze, knowing full well that his eyes were bleary and he had aged in the past few weeks. "Mrs Patmore is working on a menu for the Servants Ball. I did say that she would need to run it past you when you're back on your feet."

"Are we still going ahead with it? With Mr Bates' situation?"

Charles finally lifted his eyes to look at her."His Lordship wants to leave the decision to the last minute."

"He's still hopeful then? Anna seems to shift between total despair and unwavering belief that the sentence will be commuted."

"He believes in Mr Bates' innocence and that they will not execute an innocent man," he offered succinctly, so used to relaying other peoples opinions that they eclipsed his own.

"He is innocent," she said with conviction.

"There will still be much to do. Once the sentence is commuted they will need to work on proving him innocent."

Elsie lifted her hand to her mouth as she fought back the yawn.

"You're tired. I'm keeping you up. You should get some sleep."

She nodded, too weary to argue.

Charles rose to his feet, gently slipping his hand from hers. "I'll bring you some tea after breakfast."

"Won't you be too busy?" She made the same observation each night but for the last four mornings he had slipped upstairs after the family had taken breakfast and they had shared tea and toast. Just as every evening after supper he came to say goodnight.

"I can spare the time." He made his way towards the door. "Sleep well, Elsie."

"Goodnight Charles."**  
**


	9. Chapter 9

This is the final chapter and probably my favourite to write. It may be a little sentimental but it seemed fitting. Please comment if you like and have time.

**P****art Nine**

Elsie took the first tentative steps outside of her room in over a week. Although she had risen early it had taken almost an hour for her to wash and fasten herself into her corset, adjusting the ribbons so it fit her smaller frame. Her dress would need taking in but she would have to take care of that later, instead it would have to do for a day or two. She still felt a little unsteady, weakened by the influenza, but she really couldn't stay within the confines of her room one day longer. Slowly, she made her way along the corridor, the comforting sound of keys jangling with each footfall, only to pause briefly at the top of the servants stairs. Three flights of stairs, she mused as she gazed down into the well, and she was already feeling a little weary. Her thoughts immediately turned to Mr Bates and the struggle he must have endured almost daily, descending and climbing the stairs six or seven times a day. And for a brief moment she allowed herself to dwell on his situation, to worry about him and to miss him. Thoughts pushed to the recess of her mind, slowly but surely she made her way down to the kitchen, pausing at the bottom of each flight of stairs to catch her breath.

A smile twitched at her lips as she heard the familiar hustle and bustle, the clash of pans from the kitchen, Mrs Patmore's voice calling for the kitchen maids and the laughter drifting from the servants hall. The smile dropped as she set her face in a firm grimace befitting of a Housekeeper, smoothed down her dress, and rounded the corner.

Her entrance brought a moment of silence then Mr Carson was the first to his feet. "Mrs Hughes, good to see you up and about."

She nodded in his direction before her eyes scanned the room, settling on each of her maids before returning to him. "It's good to be up. I am going to take tea in my sitting room and sort through the household accounts. Then I will take inventory upstairs."

"Very well," he said perfunctory, aware that they were no longer alone in her room but amongst the staff. "Please let me know if you need me to go over anything."

"I am sure everything is fine."She didn't want them to feel that she didn't trust them in her absence, because she more than anyone knew what they were capable of. Her desire to retreat to her sitting room was more because of her need to sit down. The exertion of dressing and coming downstairs had left her light headed and she wanted time to recover in private. "Anna, could you come to my room when you've finished tea."

"Of course, Mrs Hughes."

The sitting room was as Elsie had left it and for that she was grateful. If anything it looked like it had been unused in her absence. Lightly she ran her fingers over her desk, with a smug satisfaction that Anna had been in and cleaned but everything returned to its rightful place. She felt his presence rather than heard him; his ability to be almost stealth like in stark contrast to the strong omnipresent man. "Mr Carson?"

"I hope you have found everything in order. I placed an order for fish yesterday but I left the invoice in the ledger," he explained, taking a step towards her, almost desperate in his need to be close to her.

"I'm sure everything will be fine." She turned to smile at him, closing the distance between them. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to say thank you, for everything. I know my incapacitation has created additional work for you but I'm back now and I will strive to catch up as quickly as I can."

He held up his hand and she stopped walking, careful to leave what would be considered a professional distance between them. "Please don't rush back, Mrs Hughes. Take your time until you are back to full health. We have managed thus far and can for a while longer."

"I'm quite well," she insisted, her arms folding across her chest as she automatically went on the defensive. "The doctor cleared me to return to work."

He failed to stifle his groan of despair. "Of course." They were back to this, he thought, professional and distanced, and it wasn't what he wanted. Every night he had sat by her bedside chatting inconsequentially about everything and anything, with a familiarity that had at first surprised him but then as he had been accustomed to it, made him very happy. He had hoped that they would allow a little more familiarity in their daily interactions, at least while alone, but she was clearly back to her old self. "You should have these back," he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out two keys.

Elsie held out her hand, her fingers lightly brushing his palm as he passed her the keys, his reaction bringing a smile to her lips. Her hand clasped them firmly, metal digging into her skin. She was back, the house was her domain again she thought as she stared down at them. Biting her lip, considering the significance of the moment, she glanced back up at him. "You realise this means no more late night assignations."

"Assignations?" he chuckled mildly. "That makes them sound slightly . . ." he trailed off as Anna appeared at his side, his eyes locked with Elsie's as they both blushed.

"Sorry am I interrupting?" she asked, conscious that she had blatantly done just that.

Charles was the first to speak, allowing her the extra seconds to compose herself. "No, it's fine. I need to get back to work." He turned again towards his friend, frowning at the expression on her face, wondering if he had somehow just said the wrong thing. "Maybe we can finish our discussion over wine in my pantry this evening."

The smile appeared and disappeared so quickly that he thought he had imagined it but she nodded and suddenly he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

/

Elsie was exhausted. It had been a long afternoon and she knew she had overdone it by rushing back to work. Unfortunately, it was more that once she began she couldn't stop. Although the maids had worked tirelessly in her absence she had discovered a long list of jobs that would require attention sooner rather than later and so engaged had she become that she had almost missed dinner. Charles had given her a concerned look when she had finally taken her seat but other than a gentle nudge of his elbow she had been unable to reassure him, the Drawing Room bell ringing, demanding his attention. Now finally she was done and as soon as Mr Carson returned from the drawing room she would excuse herself and go to bed. As much as she had been looking forward to their nightly ritual, she was too tired to appreciate it. There would, she hoped, be many other nights.

As she made her way back down the hallway, she rubbed her neck trying to ease the crick, wondering if she should just head straight up to bed. Her step wavered as her eyes fell on the door to her sitting room. It was closed, which was unusual in itself, as she always left it ajar unless she was working in there. Hesitantly pushing it open, she stepped inside and her eyes were drawn to a small brown bundle placed in the middle of her desk, illuminated by the desk lamp that someone had thoughtfully turned on. She would have thought that it was nothing special, maybe a delivery from the village, except for the bright red ribbon that secured the brown paper and its careful display. Lightly her fingers ran over it, looking for any indication of who might have left it there, almost child like excitement growing within her. Curiosity finally got the better of her and she loosened the ribbon, watching as the paper fell away to reveal crisp white sheets decorated in delicate blue cornflowers.

"For your bottom drawer," a voice echoed behind her. Elsie turned, grinning inanely but she couldn't help herself. "Don't you think I'm a bit past that now?" she asked, bemused by his gesture.

"No," he said simply, belittling his nervousness. "If we're going to settle into a cottage we are going to need a few things."

"And the first thing you thought of were bed sheets?" she teased lightly, settling into the familiarity of the situation.

"Well if I'm going to retire I am going to be spending a lot more time in bed."

She flushed at the implication of his words.

"Catching up on the sleep I've foregone in the last forty years," he continued oblivious to her interpretation. "I've bought one set for now. We can pick up another on your next half day."**  
**  
He had never suggested that they would be more than companions, merely sharing a house and spending their days together but part of her was disappointed that they were going to have separate beds. Embarrassed, she turned back to the sheets, gently stroking the soft cotton. "Thank you, Mr Carson."

"You're very welcome Mrs Hughes."

She heard the soft click of the door and assumed he had left. It was for the best, she concluded. Retirement was a long way off for both of them and hopefully by then she would come to terms with their relationship. Letting out a deep sigh, Elsie leaned over the desk, bracing herself.

"Maybe you should go to bed."

She jumped, turning sharply to see him standing by the door. It was hard to imagine that such a man could hide his presence but he frequently did, years she supposed of having to disappear in the middle of a crowded room. "I thought you'd left."

"Apparently. Are you going to tell me what's troubling you, Mrs Hughes?" he asked, his voice tender, his hands balled at his side as he resisted the urge to touch her. He had a strong feeling she was regretting her eagerness to set up home with him; god knows he couldn't blame her. Stifling a deep groan of frustration, he continued, "I probably shouldn't have suggested we share a house when you were so ill."

"Would you have ever asked me if I hadn't gotten sick?" she asked flippantly despite everything that was riding on his answer.

He hesitated, for too long he realised.

"I guess that's my answer."

"I always imagined we would but I thought I should check, in case you had other plans." Although it was said in a rush, it was the truth, or at least as much as he was willing to admit.

"No," she admitted candidly. "I always thought I would spend my days taking care of you."

Charles arched an eyebrow in surprise, moving towards her."That's a lot to ask of someone who you've _only_ worked with for twenty years."

"That's longer than most marriages," Elsie commented with a grin, suddenly aware of his proximity.

He ducked his head briefly before raising his face to catch her eye. "Are you asking me to marry you, Elsie?"

"Charles." She shook her head, the lines around her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I don't think the world has changed that much."

"In that case I would have to ask you." he part asked, part stated. The tension was palpable in the air as she stared at him, her mouth agape, her eyes widening.

"You would, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it." Now the idea was in her head she couldn't think about anything else. Did she want to be married to him? Did she want the intimacy that marriage would bring? He had already seen her at her worst, their hands entwined on the bed a newer intimacy than they were used to, his concern beyond anything she had ever seen from him, but seeing her naked was a whole different thing. She had always wanted to marry for love, but when Mr Right hadn't arrived in her twenties she had given up on the notion for a life in service, now in that second it was all she could think about.

"I don't expect anything from you, Elsie, but I do like the idea of spending what time I have left married to you. We can spend our days pottering in the garden, reading and cooking together and at night I can keep you warm. I find I like the idea very much."

"And what about love, Mr Carson?" she proclaimed, taking a step towards him, never breaking eye contact with him.

"What about it?"

Elsie bit the inside of her cheek nervously."Can you spend your life without ever loving someone?"

Charles gave her a sad smile, closing the distance between them to take her wrist in his hand. "I may never have had the opportunity to utter the words, Elsie, but that does not mean I have never loved."

Her face fell and he felt the steady beat of her pulse race beneath his fingers. She tried to slip from his grasp but he held firm. "And what of you, Elsie, could you marry for anything less than love."

"I am, afraid, a little old for notions of love," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with sadness.

"Never old to me," he whispered.

She scoffed.

"We could marry for love, Elsie, because while I may never have said the words, my feelings do run deep."

Her eyes lifted to lock with his.

"I would have settled for a lifetime of companionship but instead I find I am devoted to you."

Elsie gasped in surprise. She hadn't in her wildest dreams expected a dedication of love, but he was offering her everything she ever wanted. "Marriage brings with it . . ." she hesitated, a flush covering her cheeks.

"I am not a young man, Elsie, my memory is not what it was. You may from time to time have to remind me what marriage brings," he offered quietly, his fingers delicately stroking her bare arm, working their way up to rest on her shoulder. It had only been a few days since he realised the extent of his feelings, only time would tell whether he could live without intimacy with her, whether she would want to be intimate with him, but it was of no consequence unless . . . "Elsie Hughes, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes crinkled as her smile widened, her eyes searching his for any sign of reluctance on his part. She found none. "Yes."

"Yes? May I be permitted to kiss you?" he asked formally, suddenly unsure of how it all worked.

Elsie nodded, wanting nothing more than to take the next step, her fatigue forgotten as he finally took her in his arms.

Lightly, he brushed his lips over her forehead as he held her tightly against her, surprised at first at how delicate she felt, then concerned than he could break her. Pulling back, he gazed lovingly into her eyes. "You have made me very happy, Elsie."

"As you have made me."

His lips found hers then, the kisses increasing in ardour as he forgot who they were and allowed his feelings to guide him. "You should go to bed. It's been a long day," he said when they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed.

Her heart fell."Maybe tomorrow we can take breakfast together here, just the two of us," he suggested, "Call it a working breakfast."

"Really?"

Charles nodded, taking her small hands in his, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles."Before we get married, I feel as though I should court you, my darling. But I don't know how else we can do that except within the confines of this house." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her lightly. "One day we can walk through the grounds hand in hand, maybe have supper in the pub, but I'm not ready to announce us to the world just yet."

"You want to keep me all to yourself," she offered, not in the least bit disappointed.

Charles kissed her fingertips. "Yes. Unless . . .?"

Elsie shook her head, tugging her hand from his to gently cup his cheek. There were so many bad things going on around them, so many people close to them in terrible pain that she couldn't imagine flaunting their happiness. The idea of taking breakfast together and sharing a glass of wine at the end of the day sounded perfect, a few moments for them, an old fashioned concept of courtship befitting their relationship. Later he could walk her to her room but as he gazed adoringly into her eyes she decided there was no hurry. "I rather like the idea of being yours," she whispered as her lips lightly brushed his. "I find I like the idea very much."

The End


End file.
